


Pas de Deux

by qarcadia



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Other, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, an excuse to write a typical gothic romance between two girls, future smut, trixie is an unknowing farm gay and katya is a lesbian artist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-13 10:37:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11758074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qarcadia/pseuds/qarcadia
Summary: Early 1900's lesbian ballet dancers AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'd written the first 2 chapters and posted them on a tumblr blog for this "fandom" a few months ago but decided to create an ao3 account to finish it instead. I stopped posting because I had writers block (only two chapters in, I know) but I've been thinking about this idea a lot recently so I'm bringing it out of extinction. Also an apology for any historical or literacy inaccuracies. Going at my own pace to update, but I will do my best to keep it regular, any comments would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> Warning: There will be some internalized homophobia and questioning throughout just in case that makes anyone uncomfortable. Any other additional warnings in future chapters I'll put in the notes.
> 
> Also I mean to make no assumptions about Trixie and Katya's real life feelings or friendship. I'm re-imagining their drag personas to create a very fictional relationship between two very fictional women. 
> 
> xoxo -Arcadia

Trixie adjusted her hat carefully as she stepped off the train and onto the crowded walkway. She struggled to juggle her three suitcases in her grip and helplessly searched around for a porter. The station was incredibly busy. It was spring in Paris and everyone was returning home from winters abroad in America or business ventures in the East. But for Trixie this was her first time in the city and she couldn’t help but feel terribly out of place in the swarms of people. She suddenly felt self-conscious of her soft floral dress, pale pink overcoat and long wild curls that were threatening to escape the bun at the base of her neck. She looked every bit like the American country girl next to these posh and fashionable Parisians. Her French wasn’t excellent either, she knew some greetings but that was nearly it. She was standing out in the worst way.

A tight lump formed in her throat as she looked around almost desperately for the driver she had been promised would be awaiting her. In one of her turns she lightly whacked some poor man on the knee who angrily swore at her.

“Désolée Monsieur.” She apologized hastily but he had already stomped off. Her mother had warned her that the French had a reputation of being unfriendly.

She stood up on her toes, craning her neck and almost groaned, very unladylike, in relief at the sight of a handsome man in a suit with her name on his sign by the entrance to the station.

“Miss Beatrice Mattel?” He asked in an almost bored voice. She was surprised to hear he was an American like herself.

“That’s me.” She smiled, deciding not to correct him with her nickname, hoping to come off friendly and polite. He arched a brow and pulled her suitcases from her hands, expecting her to follow as he turned on his heel swiftly. As soon as they were outside she balked at the sight of automobiles whizzing past and she watched them in awe. In her hometown there had been only one, which belonged to the mayor. Here, there had to be at least 20 on this street alone.

“Miss Mattel?” Her companion brought her out of her thoughts in an annoyed tone. She hurried over to the coach he stood by. She was a little disappointed he didn’t drive an automobile but she was also thankful since she had never ridden in one before and didn’t know if she would like it. 

She scolded herself for not asking his name sooner as he was now sat ahead with his back to her and she shouldn’t yell to converse with him while he navigated the busy streets. Realizing she would have no conversation to distract her from her nerves, she instead picked anxiously at a frayed thread on her gloves and watched as city transformed into country out the window. She had been ecstatic to receive an invitation into Ru’s Academy of Ballet. One out of a handful of young dancers that had been selected for the prestigious company. Trixie knew she was talented, but she never expected in her wildest dreams that she would train with the world’s best dancers. Her mother had cried, at twenty years old, she had signed a two year contract to tour as a professional dancer. It would be rigorous training, she was sure, but she knew it was worth it. 

What she was most nervous about was the other girls. She hadn’t had many friends in her town and didn’t know how to act around what she assumed would be beautiful, talented, upper class girls. To make things worse, Trixie was a week late, her mother had to work extra days so she could pay for Trixie’s ticket across the Atlantic. The other girls had left and traveled together, they would all be closer and knew each other better. 

After what felt like years but had only been perhaps 4 hours, a large stone edifice came into view. The house-turned-academy was incredible in its size and beauty. The long road leading to it was surrounded by lush trees and neatly trimmed hedges. Blooming vines crept up the walls of the manor and sunlight glimmered upon a lake by the east. It was like something out of a fairy tale. The inside was even more remarkable. Above marble floors hung a grand chandelier that twinkled delicately under the waning sunlight streaming in through the windows. A parted staircase led to two hallways that escaped her current sight. The ceiling was painted to resemble the transition of sunset to night sky. Trixie had never seen any design as exquisite as the one she now stood and would live in.

A maid with dark hair and full lips shuffled down quickly and took the bags from her driver. 

“Thank you David.” Trixie hid her surprise at the informal address by the maid. She offered a smile to her driver, David, who nodded curtly and left. 

“Hi! So you’re the latest one, Beatrice right? I’m Adore, you will be seeing me the most, I’m usually the one who cleans the rooms and serves you breakfast.” The odd maid cocked her head, signaling Trixie to follow her up the right staircase. She had been thrown by her easy demeanor but found her immediately charming. 

“I’m pleased to meet you Adore, please call me Trixie though.” 

“Trixie! I like that, it’s very modern.” Adore hummed. Trixie giggled at the thought, she never considered herself a modern woman, but perhaps she should start. 

Adore led her down a long hallway adorned with faded paintings and pots of flowers. Towards the end of the hallway they stopped in front of a wooden door. 

“All you dancers get your own rooms, which is pretty grand, I have to share with DeLa but that’s because we’re maids and you are obviously… not.” Adore seemed to forget where she’d started but Trixie thought her rambling was comforting. 

“The other girls just finished dinner and are in the parlor now but I can have Ginger, that’s the cook, make you something if you’re hungry?” 

“Thank you Adore, that would be great.” She had not eaten a thing since this morning. 

Trixie went about unpacking. Her room wasn’t very large but generously furnished, soft pink wallpaper and teal cushioned seats in front of a fireplace. The manor was old but the décor was modern and thoroughly Parisian. 

She had hung her coat up and finished the sandwich Adore had brought up when she heard a soft knock on her door. A thin face poked through. Her hair was pale, almost silvery and her skin was like pure porcelain. 

“Well, hello there.” Trixie greeted. 

“Sorry, I heard another girl arrived and wanted to greet you personally. I’m Max, or Maxine if it pleases you.” She sounded English. She then stepped in and offered a thin hand out to Trixie. 

“Trixie, thanks.” She smiled politely, realizing it would be an evening full of introductions. 

Max had brought her down to the parlor where she met about twenty other girls. They were all beautiful and proper and made Trixie feel like she hardly belonged. 

“You may have been late but at least you aren’t the last to show up.” A statuesque redhead who everyone called “Fame” spoke up. 

“Madame Visage won’t start our trainings or even meet with us until this last one shows up, if she does at all.” The voice belonged to Violet, a swan-like girl with long dark curls and a permanent scowl. 

“Maybe she hit traffic.” A soft voice drawled from the back. Trixie giggled, seemingly the only one to notice her joking tone. She turned and noticed it was from Alaska. She was looking at a book from the shelf and pretended not to be interested in the conversation. 

“I heard she’s a Russian.” Gia spoke up. 

“So?” Pearl said from her seat next to Violet, the two seemed joined at the hip. 

Trixie tuned out the rest of their gossiping. She was happy to hear of the arrival of another girl, maybe then she wouldn’t be the center of attention. Then again, the girls hadn’t seemed very interested in her in the first place. 

Well, now you’ve just made yourself sad. 

She got up from her seat by Max who sent her a small smile, and walked to the book shelf by Alaska. Alaska was beautiful, lean, and had the most incredible arched eyebrows above wide brown eyes. She seemed a bit reserved but not out of shyness, perhaps it was disinterest. 

Trixie smiled at Alaska, who just blinked at her and returned to her book. Outside it began to rain. 

At least Max likes me. She thought sadly. She grabbed a random romance novel and sat at an empty seat by the fireplace, away from the other girls. The rain, and Trixie’s heart, grew heavier. 

An hour had passed when Trixie looked up from her book at the sound of the large front doors opening. The outside deluge grew louder and then it ceased and was replaced with the shuffling of wet heels on marble. The other girls in the parlor stopped talking. In walked a rain-soaked girl with an out of breath grin on her face.

“Hello.” A smooth voice with a slight foreign accent crooned, she wiggled her gloveless fingers in a wave and Trixie could see Violet and Pearl turn and snicker into each other’s shoulders at the disheveled stranger. Her smile drooped a bit and she wrung her hands together looking suddenly very unsure of herself. Trixie wanted to stand up and comfort her for some odd reason, usually she had trouble meeting new people, as it were. She was relieved to see Max stand up and greet her warmly. Trixie was once again endeared by her genuine disposition.

“You must be our last girl! We are all excited to meet you!” Violet scoffed in the back and Trixie couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes. Max ignored her.

“What’s your name?” she asked excitedly.

“My name is Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, but please, call me Katya.” She smiled again showing off perfect bright teeth. 

Katya. The name sounded new and melodic to Trixie’s ears. 

Max pulled her near the stairs to where Trixie could no longer hear. The other girls had moved on back to their conversations. She took advantage of the distracted room and observed the Russian girl curiously. She had on a crimson coat that hugged her slim waist and a matching skirt, the bottom was covered in mud as were her boots. She wore no gloves and her blouse was black and sheer to Trixie’s shock. Her collarbone and the tops of her breasts visible under the material. She ignored the flush she felt on her cheeks and credited it to the fire she was sat so close to. Her stepfather would call Katya a harlot for wearing a blouse like that. She had blonde hair in a messy coil that sagged from the rain under her red hat. The girl’s face is what made her still. She was incredibly beautiful. Smooth ivory skin and the sharpest cheekbones she had ever seen. Her eyes were rimmed in more makeup than Trixie was sure was socially acceptable. Her lips were full and red and looked soft to the touch. 

What? 

She didn’t know why the thought of touching her lips entered her mind and looked down at her book quickly. Her gaze was drawn back soon enough. Another figure entered the room then, all the girls looked up when they noticed the newcomer was of the male variety. Trixie admired the handsome man in an equally wet suit laden with suitcases. He had white blond hair parted to the side and modern glasses. He huffed dramatically and offered a tight smile to the girls in the parlor. Trixie almost snorted when she noticed Alaska’s curious gaze eye him up. 

Adore and another maid came in from upstairs and took Katya’s bags from the burdened companion. His suit wasn’t that of a chauffeurs and he looked at Katya with a warmth in his eyes. Was he her husband? Lover? She saw no rings on their fingers. Now free of her bags, he enveloped her in a tight hug and she pressed a quick kiss on his cheek as she gave her goodbyes. Some of the girls blanched at the public embrace while others sagged at the assumption that the attractive stranger had a girl. Alaska’s eyes followed him as he left the room. 

Katya’s gaze swept over the room and landed on Trixie’s before she gave her a gentle smile. She turned then and followed the maids upstairs. Trixie’s heart fluttered and she wasn’t sure why. She looked back at her book but found she couldn’t concentrate as thunder cracked outside.


	2. Chapter 2

Katya pulled her wet clothes off quickly as thunder continued to roar outside. She hated being the center of attention like that. Hated feeling those judging eyes on her. 

They weren’t all judging though. She recalled the blonde by the fire who’s gaze felt curious, intrigued. She was a beauty too, light golden curls framed a heart shaped face. Her angled eyes were so big and so blue. 

She dropped her clothes in the washroom connected to her room and pulled on a simple brown skirt and white blouse. She did her best to untangle her wretched hair from its confines and let it fall down her back in its long waves. 

Katya smirked at the reaction her loose hair might attract from the other snobbish dancers. She hoped she could get along with at least one of them. The one girl, Max, seemed sickly sweet, though most likely a stickler for propriety. And she already knew she would get along perfectly with Adore. 

She took her time going downstairs, peeking into the parlor to assess the atmosphere. A spot was open on a loveseat near the pretty blonde. As soon as Katya stepped in though she was accosted with questions. 

“Was that your beau?” a raven haired beauty asked her in a judging tone. 

“I’m sorry?” she was taken aback. 

“Violet!” Max scolded the dark haired girl. She turned to Katya and raised a thin brow at her loose hair. 

“She means the handsome man who escorted you here.” The voice came from a tall blonde who stood by the bookshelf. She sounded tired or bored, perhaps both. 

Katya couldn’t help the shocked laugh that escaped her. In heaving wheezes she met the eyes of some surprised faces. All eyes were on her and her obnoxious display. 

Stop it. She abruptly stopped laughing. She knew her laugh was unladylike and inappropriate. When she was younger, the other children had always made fun of her laugh at the home, this felt hauntingly similar. ‘Ladies do not laugh like pigs’ the voice of Sister Tempest reminded her and she suddenly felt very foolish. 

“That was my brother, Aaron. Not my ‘beau’.” The word felt silly on her tongue. And though it might be a lie, it was close enough to the truth. They may not be related by blood but they were closer than many real siblings ever would be. 

That seemed to please everyone and fortunately she was now out of the spotlight. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Violet’s burning gaze on her, as if she couldn’t decide if she liked Katya or absolutely despised her. 

“I’m not impressed.” Katya heard her whisper to the girl next to her. The blonde at her side had an empty glass dangling from her fingers, her body slumped on the sofa and stifled a giggle in response. 

Katya’s skin flushed hot at the words. She’d hardly introduced herself and her abilities were already under scrutiny. She turned her back on the other girls, stowing away her anxieties for another night. 

Her eyes wandered over to the girl by the fireplace again and made her way to the seat across from her. 

“Mind if I sit here?” She offered a small smile as the girl looked up at her with those big eyes. She was even prettier up close. High cheekbones, wide blue eyes, full pouty pink lips, a dusting of soft freckles under her eyes. Her hair was collected in a haphazard bun, loose tendrils that had escaped cupped her right cheek delicately. Katya’s heart skipped a beat when the girl smiled back at her and nodded. She’d be wonderful to draw. Katya’s fingers suddenly itched to grab her pencils and paper. 

You’re going to scare the poor girl if you keep staring at her. Katya blinked and sat, looking at the fire. 

“Just ignore Violet, she’s not easy to warm up.” The girl tried to comfort her. Katya had a few choice words for Violet, like rotted. 

“I can see that.” Katya murmured in response before she continued. 

“Could I bother to ask you who everyone else is? I don’t want to interrupt them all to ask their names.” That was a partial lie. She didn’t want to admit to the other girl that she was too nervous to do so. “But I realize that I’m already interrupting you now.” She finished embarrassed, nodding at the book in the other girls lap. 

“Oh, no it’s no bother.” She looked down like she had forgotten there was a book in her lap. 

Katya followed her eyes as she went around the room, quietly describing what she knew of each character. She made little jokes about them but her tone held a certain warmth, as if she had already developed a fondness for them. 

“And then that leaves me, Trixie. I only just arrived some time before you did.” Trixie smiled softly back at her. 

The name suited her, beguiling and lovely. 

“They were talking about you though.” She added with a little grin. 

Katya’s heart lurched. 

“They think you’re a spy come to steal technique and knowledge for the Russian Ballet.” She giggled. 

Katya couldn’t help but snort. 

“Well it’s true of course.” She said with a straight face. 

Trixie saw right through it and let out a bark of a laugh before dissolving into sharp giggles. 

She smiled at her reaction, Trixie had a loud laugh just like her. The girl made her feel soft and at ease. 

“You’re good, I almost believed that.” 

Katya grinned cheekily before adding; 

“I haven’t been to Russia, or even talked to a Russian, in years so I think they’re safe. But now I might play with them a bit for that assumption.” She turned and observed the blonde, identified as Alaska, she had seen eyeing up Aaron. 

She then caught the eye of the rude girl, Violet. Pearl’s head lazed on her shoulder, one of Violet’s fingers twirled around the ends of her pale hair. They were a curious pair. Violet looked away quickly and left the couch, startling Pearl. 

Interesting. Katya would file that interaction away for later thought perhaps. 

She looked back at Trixie who was looking right back at her before she averted her eyes back to her book shyly. 

“Where are you from Trixie?” She asked, interrupting her reading again, though Katya realized she was only just pretending at this point. 

“From a little town in the Midwest no one has ever heard of. It was just me and my mother, and my stepfather.” Trixie whispered the last part, unhappiness evident in her tone. She recovered quickly. 

“I’m afraid I’m just a boring farm girl.” She said jokingly. 

“I don’t think you’re boring.” Katya responded a bit too quickly. Christ, calm down. 

“I mean, that’s more interesting than growing up in Boston with Catholic Nuns.” She rushed out. 

“Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun.” Trixie deadpanned. A beat passed before the two broke out in a fit of laughter. She had never met someone she found so easy to get along with as quickly as she did with Trixie. Katya felt the pull on her heart she’d always gotten when she was attracted to someone. But she had no way of knowing if Trixie shared her hidden preference toward the feminine. 

They continued sharing stories and jokes until Katya realized they were the only two left in the room. It had grown completely dark outside. Rain still fell softly outside, barely making a sound above the fireplace. Trixie looked exhausted, a sleepy smile showing she didn’t want to end their conversation. Cast in the warm light she seemed to glow. 

Katya looked into the fire, the heat on her face hiding her blush. She couldn’t help as her mind ran wild with thoughts of touching her smooth skin and tasting her lips against her own. What it would feel like to feel Trixie’s heartbeat against her if she pulled the other girl to her breast to kiss her. 

She banished the thoughts, feeling guilty for fantasizing about a girl she had only just met. She just couldn’t help but be drawn to her with her loud laugh and kind eyes. Something about her made her feel warm and happy, sensations Katya rarely felt. 

Katya wasn’t tired but she could see Trixie’s eyes starting to droop. 

“Alright, time for bed.” She stood and offered her hand to pull the other girl up. Her hands were soft but firm, and made Katya’s tingle as they touched. 

Trixie’s room was directly across from hers. Saying goodnight and then watching her leave had felt almost painful to her, despite knowing she would see her again in the morning. 

Katya undressed and sat at the vanity by her bed. She began to comb her hair slowly, her thoughts running far away from her. Every so often, she’d run the comb through her hair and brush up against her breast. Her eyes closed as she imagined what it would feel like to be touched by another woman. To feel hands run up her sides and caress her intimately. Katya had never been with another girl but she fantasized about it often, until she was mad with desire and want. 

She had always been a wild girl. Her mother had said so often, too wild for her own good. Perhaps one of the reasons she’d dropped her off with the nuns when she was only 10 and returned to Russia without her. She didn’t make friends easily, she was thought of as strange and peculiar and she became lonely very quickly. That horrible place was where she had met Aaron. Then, a lanky fourteen year-old year old who had pulled another boy off of her after she had provoked him into a fight. 

Since that moment twelve years ago, Aaron had become the only family she wanted or needed. And when he turned of age, he’d taken her from the orphanage and introduced her to ballet. Aaron danced too, though he did not advertise it to many. Katya loved dance, and it showed, but her heart belonged to her art. She had been drawing and painting since she was young. Selling some of her pieces had actually paid for her ballet training and instructors. 

She wondered if Trixie would let her compose a portrait of her, or if she would be disturbed by the request. Having only just met her, but Katya was curious about her. She knew her desires were different than many other girls her age, yet she had long since dropped the idea that she was a sinner or evil for them. 

Katya pulled her long hair off her neck and let her eyes drift shut. She ran a finger along her full bottom lip and down her jaw, imagining fingers and hands that were not her own touching her. She longed to touch and see another body that wasn’t hers. 

She laid back on her bed and ran a hand down her bare torso languidly, relishing in the goosebumps that rose after it. Sighing as she met the throbbing flesh between her legs. Her other hand cupped her breast, teasing her erect nipple between her fingers. She had done this many times before, on nights when she felt nearly intoxicated by the hot ache of her body. Her knees fell aside as her hips rolled against her slick fingers. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire and her breathy sighs. 

Katya bit her lip around a moan. She loved feeling like the wild girl everyone thought her to be. And as she found her release she wondered if perhaps Trixie was as wild as she.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really appreciate the comments I got on this, thank you all so much! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, characterization is hard, but I have big plans for this fic and I'm impatient to get to them lol. I hope you all at least tolerate this chapter :) -Arcadia

Chapter 3

The next couple of days that followed her arrival seemed to flow easily enough, although slowly. Trixie settled into the relaxed atmosphere of the academy and after getting to know them better, found that there were more girls that she liked than disliked. Though her favorite was undoubtedly Katya.

There was something very magnetic and alluring about her that Trixie couldn’t fully explain but regardless, felt that it didn’t bother her much not knowing why she enjoyed the other girls company so much. Katya was a free-spirit, the kind of girl that no mother wanted their daughter to be, according to those where Trixie was from. Perhaps that’s what intrigued her so intensely, her attraction to the absurd and disregard to any limitation.

It appeared that they were becoming fast friends, much to her pleasure. She’d grown fond of Fame and Pearl as well, after Fame had helped her mend a ripped stocking and after Pearl had smiled a soft ‘thank you’ to her for fixing her tea without prompting. 

The day after Katya arrived, Madame Visage made her long-awaited appearance and held an orientation of sorts in the formal dining room.

She was not a tall or imposing woman, but she carried an authoritative atmosphere that Trixie was immediately conscious of. A large bosom, draped in velvety black cloth with a sleek midnight chignon as if she were in mourning for their arrival. She stood at the head of the mahogany table like the matriarch of amazons, hands crossed, chest extended, and voice like a piquant brandy. 

She requested the girls all call her “Michelle”.

Across from where Trixie sat, she met Violet’s eye, the thin young woman sat tall and proud like a glass figurine. She smirked and rolled her eyes, in such a way that suggested she was wordlessly challenging Trixie to agree with her, that, yes this is a bore of a lecture and these rules are harsh and foolish. Instead she blinked cooley and turned her eyes back to Michelle.

She was again distracted though by Katya, sat to her right, who was turned to the bow of their ship but her fingers tapping a disjointed rhythm on the top of her knee. Trixie watched the flex of muscle and tendon twitch and began to feel anxious. She chose to look at the maze of pale honey-colored braided knots that sat at the base of her slim neck and endured the rest of the address as presently as she could.

All eyes were on Violet when they returned to the parlor that evening after dinner. 

“I hate Michelle Visage.” She stated matter-of-factly, picking at the base of her fingernail. 

Trixie had not yet warmed up to Violet, she was younger and more conceited than the other girls and it made her an unpleasant companion most times. She moved to her usual spot by the fire and did her best to ignore the conversation happening around her. 

Trixie was not usually an introvert, but she had not quite felt she fit in here yet, despite befriending many. The exception being Katya. She had only just met the young woman and yet she felt as if she’d known her for a lifetime. 

As if her thoughts had conjured her, Katya moved toward her now.

Trixie had held onto that silly romance novel she’d picked from the bookshelf on the night of her arrival. And for the past night or so, Katya had taken to reading it with her when she began to grow restless and apathetic. 

She sat next to her now, leaning into her space to read the pages Trixie had on the edge of her lap. Katya’s shoulder was pressed against her own, it was warm, and she could hear her breathing softly.

The heroine of the novel was in the midst of being pursued by, frankly, a bore of a gentleman. Trixie’s eyes flickered along the lines, watching it morph into a love scene in front of her eyes. Heat licked at her cheeks, perhaps she was embarrassed, and she ran her thumb along the next page to flip it.

Then Katya’s hand moved atop hers to settle it.

“I haven’t finished yet.” She murmured distractedly. Trixie felt the soft air of her words on her neck, making her want to cover it up with her hand. Her hand which was still underneath Katya’s, who hadn’t seemed to notice. Trixie studied the woman next to her, chewing on her lip with her eyebrows scrunched together, could see her eyes darting from word to word and the reflection of the fire in front of them.

She slid her hand out from under hers, it’d grown too warm and she was longing for the coolness of her bedsheets. She moved to stand up.

“You keep reading on, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” She sighed a little as she said it.

Katya smiled up at her and it rolled over Trixie like a ripple underneath her skin. 

“Would you like me to get Max to tuck you in with a bedtime story and glass of warm milk?” She teased. 

Trixie kicked her foot lightly for teasing her, though she was laughing for the realization that it wasn’t uncharacteristic for Max to do such a thing.

“We have our first day of lessons tomorrow, if you were smart you would do the same.” She singsonged back.

“I’m not infamous for my brains Tracy, just my looks.” She punctuated with a kick of her leg and batted her dark eyelashes. 

“Of course.” Trixie could only smile back. She had expected Katya to respond in a haughty tone but instead she blushed and turned her head back down to the book.

“Sleep well Talulah.” She said softly without looking back up, her sharp cheeks still flushed and warm.

 

The next day Trixie woke up restless, she’d slept terribly, plagued by gold and red dreams she couldn’t remember. 

She swallowed her breakfast down in a daze, listening to everything and everyone but retaining nothing.

Back in her room, she pulled her long tendrils as fiercely as she could into a bun but a few escaped and curled around her face stubbornly. She had to tighten the laces of her bodice taut to make her breasts as flat as they would go, forcing her ribs until it felt like they would bust the shape. The hole in her tights that she and Fame had painstakingly mended was beginning to perforate as she pulled them over her thighs. The tarlatan fabric of her practice tutu had started to sag.

Trixie felt like she had something to prove, it manifested in her chest like a thorn entrenched in the flesh of her heart. She’d felt the wondering eyes of her fellow dancers on her breasts and backside. Knew they probably thought she wouldn’t be able to move like the airy, weightless girls like Violet and Naomi. But Trixie was strong and she was aware of her talents, but the other girls didn’t know this. And what of the instructors she had yet to meet?

Nevertheless, she was determined to show her worth and would not be bent.

Outside her room she saw Pearl struggling to hold her dance shoes in one hand and attempting to fasten her hair with the other. Trixie pulled the shoes out into her free hand for her.

Pearl murmured a thanks around the mouthful of pins she’d collected.

“You were quiet at breakfast.” She said once Trixie had handed back her slippers. She was fairly observant for someone who looked half-asleep at all times.

“I didn’t sleep well at all.” Trixie replied and ran her free hand across her forehead. Pearl made a sympathetic hum.

The studio was located on the third floor of the mansion. It must have formerly been a gallery, for it was extremely spacious and vast. Floor length windows ran along the eastern wall letting in natural light, you could see the treetops extend for miles every way in view.

Most of the other dancers were already here, stretching and warming up their sleepy limbs. 

Pearl left her side just as they stepped in and flounced to Violet so Trixie settled herself beside the next girl she saw, which happened to be Max, who’s long limbs were sprawled wide like a boomerang.

Trixie sighed as she pressed her hands to the bottom of her foot and when she brought her head up she could see Katya facing away from her against the opposite wall. One lean leg stationed on the floor and the other stretched onto the wall above her. Trixie watched in awe as the muscles in her back flexed under her as she pulled her leg down and swung the other one up in its place.

Max brought her head up and followed Trixie’s gaze and balked at the sight of Katya in a vertical split. Her shock at the implication of the position made Trixie flustered. But then her stomach sank as she noticed what was sat beside Katya’s right foot. 

The slippers looked brand new, they were soft and pale and shone like they had cost a lot of money. Didn’t she own a practice pair? 

Before she could speak to her, a lanky moustached man strode in. He clapped his hands twice before introducing himself.

“My name is Santino Rice, Michelle must have told you I’m to be your main instructor for the next six months. Give me your best or we will find someone better to replace you.” He finished shortly. There was something about him that made Trixie feel not quite right. 

He set out a pace that was demanding and merciless, clapping his hands to a beat that echoed sharply throughout the studio. For hours he had them bending every which way, fouettés, penchés, soutenus. And when he felt he had had enough of that, Santino had them hold en arabesque for over thirty minutes. Trixie’s eyes began to water and her jaw hurt from how tightly she had her teeth clenched together. Beside her, she could see Pearl’s extended arm beginning to twitch, sweat rolling over the flat of her temples. Santino walked between them quizzically, a fist propped under his chin, he stopped to admire Violet’s pose and Trixie did not like the way his eyes wandered over her form, not unlike the way one looked at a horse they wanted to break. He made his way over to her then, complimenting the curve of her spine and the point of her toe. A shot of pride run through her, betraying her earlier bias against the instructor.

“Fermé.” He said finally. Trixie relaxed into the pose, her muscles wailing. Without another word he dismissed them with a shallow nod towards the door. In the hallway, she paused when she saw Katya at the back of the group, attempting to hide the fact that she was limping. 

“Why don’t you take those off?” Trixie asked her softly, not wanting to draw attention from the other girls.

Katya had an expression on her face that Trixie knew was an endeavor to mask the pain she was feeling in her feet. She looked as though she might protest but sagged a bit, bending over to unlace her slippers.

Once they were loose, she propped her ankle up on the staircase railing and with a grimace, pulled the shoe off. 

Trixie pressed her lips together tightly at the sight of the little red cuts and blisters fresh on her feet. 

“I did not get a chance to break them in before I got here” She whispered. She held the new slippers delicately, little spots of dark crimson dotting the insides. Her eyes were cast down like she was ashamed or embarrassed of herself and Trixie again felt an overwhelming urge to hug her. 

Katya made a disgruntled noise and gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile, as if it were no problem. But it was, and they both knew it, today was just the first of many more to come and dancing with wounded feet would not make it easy on her.

“I have a salve back in my room I brought along with me, I’ll come by later to give it to you.” Trixie told her. 

She thought she saw Katya’s eyes shimmer for a moment before she blinked and beamed back at her.

“Thank you, Trixie.” 

 

It was a while after dinner when Trixie went across the hall to Katya’s room. Almost everyone had chosen not to mingle in the parlor due to today’s strenuous first lessons.

She’d told Katya to clean the wounds gently first, the little canister of salve cupped into her hand as she knocked lightly on the door to her room.

No answer.

“Katya?” She called softly, still nothing. 

Trixie waited a beat before she tested the door handle and found it unlocked.

Katya’s room was similar in composition to Trixie’s but unlike hers, it was in a state of complete chaos. What looked like art supplies were on every surface, including her bed, and items of clothing were scattered about the floor. Vibrant tapestries hung from the windows and ornaments and knick-knacks of all kinds were mounted on the walls and placed upon the mantle. The whole room, despite it’s obvious disorder and clutter, felt warm and comforting, well lived in.

“Katya?” She tried again, the door to the washroom was ajar.

“Trixie, is that you?” She heard the muffled response.

“Yes.” 

Katya poked her head out from behind the doorway, her neck and shoulders were bare and her long hair hung long and wet to the side, she must have just gotten out of a bath.

“Sorry for the mess.” She paused looking around the room. “If you would like, feel free to move all of that off the bed and make yourself at home, I’ll be right out.” She laughed and then she was gone from the doorway.

Trixie gingerly picked up the thin pieces of newsprint that were currently taking up residence on the bed. On them were smudged gestural drawings of the human figure, Trixie couldn’t tell who they were of, but they were nicely done. Katya had not mentioned being an artist to her.

She sat down and looked about the room again, a gilded mirror hung on the far wall and through its reflection she could see the edge of wash room. She caught sight of Katya pulling on a robe, but not before Trixie had seen her bare back. She flushed and looked down at her hands, feeling guilty all of a sudden for even lifting her eyes.

Her heart was hammering in her chest when Katya finally came out, tying the long robe around her so in covered her completely and yet Trixie couldn’t get the image of her bare, wet backside out of her mind.

Katya noticed no change in her and sat on the other side of the bed, taking the offered canister from Trixie’s limp hand.

“You do not know how much I appreciate this Trixie. Will it help with the pain or make it heal quickly?” She asked, turning it over to examine the clear contents.

“Both, it’s something my mother created whenever I started with new shoes.” She said.

Katya smiled and placed her sore-covered feet upon the bed, opening the lid and dabbing the softly-scented ointment on with a gentle hand. She winced every so often. 

Trixie pulled a couple strips of bandaging out and handed them to her, who continued to thank her again, despite her protests that it was really nothing. Trixie stood and watched as Katya struggled to wrap her feet securely.

“Let me, I’ve done this many times.” She said and knelt in front of her. Katya looked unsure at first but then presented her foot to Trixie, who laughed at her coy display.

Trixie took her ankle gently and began to wind the gauze around it, her skin was soft and warm, and she could see the light hairs on the bottom of her calves that were exposed by the opening in her robe. It felt strangely intimate and Trixie didn’t know what to make of it, she quickly finished the other foot, but could feel Katya’s eyes burning, watching her.

“There, that should help. I’ll leave the container with you if you should need more.” Trixie finished, she looked up to meet Katya’s eyes and felt something pass between them. She couldn’t name the expression on Katya’s face but it felt hot and palpable, like being underneath the summer sun for too long. 

Trixie hadn’t let go of her ankle yet. And Katya hadn’t said anything either, just watched her like Trixie’s eyes held the answers to life’s questions, she liked it.

Trixie liked it and that’s why she let go of her ankle and stood stiffly, bidding the other young woman a quiet “good night”, and exiting the room, not seeing Katya remain still on the bed and place a hand over her rapid-beating heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled: "Katya's Angst Parade" or "Trixie's Gay Crisis"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating for a while! Life gets in the way you know. Also this isn't a very long or exciting chapter but it serves a purpose! In other news, I made a blog on tumblr for updates and what-nots on what I'm writing. You can ask me things there if you would like since I suck at responding to comments on here, all of which I appreciate so much. It doesn't have anything really on it yet but I like making graphics for each chapter so it's there if you're interested @aarcadia.tumblr.com 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, thanks for being patient! -arcadia

Ever since that night, when Trixie had bandaged her foot, Katya had felt something soft and lovely settle in her chest. It melted warmly within her and spread out all throughout her limbs like pure sunlight and she was certain she knew the cause of it. She was frustrated with herself though, she was not one to fall for someone so quickly and it made her feel young and foolish. Nevertheless, Katya couldn’t deny something had changed.

Trixie on the other hand, gave nothing away. The days following, she was quiet and sweet and as snarky as ever, as if nothing had occurred between them. Katya would have assumed that Trixie felt no change in their friendship had it not been for her difference in behavior over the next couple of months.

Trixie steadily became more distant from her, more shy around her. She no longer bantered back with Katya at the end of the day, she would read quietly by the fire and raise her eyes for no one. She spent more time with Pearl outside in the garden. That sweet feeling that had settled around Katya’s heart suddenly felt like it was bruising her from the inside out. 

While Trixie grew more distant, she was still a ever present part of Katya’s daily life. She would be to her side during their lessons, holding pose after perfect pose, sending her a soft half-smile whenever she would catch Katya staring after her. It felt wrong, to still be so friendly but to not have the close bond that she thought had been forming between them.

The nights were always the worst. After dinner, sitting in the parlor amongst the other girls and watching Trixie leave to her room out of the corner of her eye, she now felt too muddled and nervous to try and talk to her. She would have gone mad with loneliness had it not been for the unexpected friendships she had struck up with Alaska and Violet, of all people. They would laugh and make nice and it would make the burning in her chest less real for a precious hour or two. Then she’d retire to her room with her body aching after the long day of practice and lay awake in bed and let her greatest worry seep into her thoughts.

Katya had been no stranger to anxiety. Aaron had recognized a kindred spirit in the brittle young girl he’d found fighting in the orphanage and they had been able to help each other through it, but now that Katya was here without him she felt unstable and teeming with thoughts she’d rather ignore. Those currently being that she had somehow, foolishly, exposed herself to Trixie and made her hate her. Had she let her defenses down prematurely and unveiled her illicit longings? Katya reexamined every interaction she had had with the other girl, searching for any indication that she had given herself away and lost Trixie forever.

Through that fearsome train of thought, she would delve deeper into the horrific fantasy that Trixie would tell Visage, or the other girls and she would become the pariah she’d always felt herself to be. Besides the sketchpads filled with the rough female figure and a inarguably eccentric and unusual personality, there would be no specific evidence to damn her would there?

After some silent crying and some deep breaths, Katya found herself doubting the event that Trixie would even incriminate her taking place. Trixie was kind and conscientious and loyal. Beautiful. Katya pictured her pale dresses, her cheeks when she smiled, the white-silver color her hair would turn in the moonlight. She thought endlessly of the night Trixie had come to her room, her hair down and flowing, how her hands had been soft but tough from working on her mother’s farm, the way her brow drew up in concentration. She remembered the heat that had broken out all over her skin under her robe, her body still sensitive and damp after her long bath.

But then, maybe Trixie just did not like her. She might have realized that Katya was bizarre and foolish and no fit companion to other girls her age.

A new wash of tears would brim under her eyes and Katya’s heartbreak would begin all over again.

But the days went on. Katya’s feet were no longer blistered and raw, the skin became tough and worn. Despite her feelings of untrust toward the man, Santino Rice was proving to be a merciless yet successful instructor, and she was advancing every day. She was not as graceful as Fame, as fluid as Violet, as precise as Alaska, or as vivacious as Trixie but they were not as emotive as Katya was. Aaron once called her the most passionate woman he’d ever seen and she intended to live up to it.

She wrote letters to Aaron frequently since he had taken up an apartment in Paris, working as a framer. She wanted to send him some of her more finished pieces for safe keeping but hadn’t had the chance yet since they could only send out letters and not whole packages. Every so often she’d be writing a letter in the parlor and Alaska would become suspiciously friendly, inquiring after her brother and his attributes, hobbies, philosophies. Alaska was lucky Katya enjoyed talking about Aaron, and it wasn’t so bad that she found herself becoming close friends with the leggy blonde who was witty and sharp as a knife.

She’s kept from mentioning Trixie in her letters, not sure what to say quite yet. She was certain Aaron knew about her predilections though she had not confirmed it aloud before. And still, Trixie was proving to be a complicated mystery to her and Katya was burning to figure her out.

\-----------

Trixie felt like she was coming undone. The night she had left Katya’s room she had slept horribly, just like she had the night before. Her fingertips that had held Katya’s ankles felt like she had pressed them into the electrical socket. Her heart would not slow down from it’s frantic beating. And when she did fall into sleep, albeit for no longer than thirty minutes at a time, she dreamt strange dreams. Blurry dreams about warm ivory skin and red lips and golden hair that did not belong to herself. 

The next few days went as easily as they could, she managed to avoid any awkwardness with Katya, barely saying more than a few sentences to her. Her beautiful face would brighten anytime Trixie looked her way and it would fall as soon as she had stopped talking to her.

The weeks after that she went through in a daze, doing her best to appear well and content. Trixie was trying so hard to stay focused on her lessons, so much so that she would sometimes leave right after dinner to practice in her room alone until midnight. Her already weary mind and body would be so exhausted that she’d fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and if she was lucky, she wouldn’t dream.

Something odd had overcome her, and it was vague enough that she could not name it but present enough that it somehow affected all of her, body and soul.

Trixie learned soon enough that being around Katya, even just looking at her, made the feeling grow. And the cure seemed obvious enough at first. It felt wrong and she felt cruel for ignoring her. She would feel Katya’s eyes on her in their lessons, during dinner, in the parlor, she could feel it like a physical sensation. And Trixie wondered if she was angry with her, or worse, if she was hurt and dejected.

The other girls noticed no change in her as she become insular and withdrawn, besides perhaps Pearl, who would suggest they take a walk outside to escape the groups’ sometimes manic babble. She knew they all just believed her to be focused and absorbed in her work, the reason they were all here. But Katya had had a glance at who Trixie truly was and knew she was hiding from something.

Trixie herself wasn’t even sure what she was hiding from, but the nights when she was alone in her room it began to flood into her mind. The first time she’d seen Katya, the red-lipped smile she gave Trixie when she teased her, the wet skin of her back after she’d gotten out of the bath. A jumbled collection of recent memories that sent her into a panic. 

The night alone in Katya’s room specifically consumed her often. What if she had come to her room five minutes sooner? What if she had seen more than Katya’s loose hair and bare back? What if she hadn’t left? And those trains of thought were the most dangerous, brought emotions that manifested in places she was unsure of. 

She’d heard whispers and cautionary tales about boys and girls who had strayed from the light and taken up in dubious affairs with members of their own sex. Her mother had never spoken of such things, really no one in her small town had. It was a taboo subject that was appropriate only to function as a tool for gossip and teasing. A more frightening case was when Trixie was much younger and remembered hearing stories of a school teacher being essentially forced from town over an overhead flirtation with the pastor’s married daughter. Trixie recalled her stepfather speaking of “perversions” and “wickedness” and he’d spit on the ground as if cursing the woman.

She hadn’t revisited that memory until now. And it confused and angered her to think of the pain of rejection that woman must have felt. Sat on her bed now she hadn’t felt the tears rolling down her cheeks until they dripped onto her folded hands. 

Would the same become of her? Was she even in the same danger? She didn’t even know what it was she was feeling exactly at this moment. Ignoring Katya hadn’t worked, the nerves Trixie felt when she was around her was nothing compared to the loneliness she was feeling after evading the first person she’d felt a genuine connection to. 

She liked being around Katya, and she thought Katya felt the same so what could be so wrong with that? The more she thought about it the less clouded her mind began to feel and she felt oddly at peace all of a sudden. Repeating that affirmation to herself gave Trixie the confidence to make things right, and soon.

The next morning Trixie stepped into the dining room and found the seat she had been looking for. Next to her, Katya turned and her eyes bulged a bit before she remembered to swallow, clearly surprised Trixie had chosen the seat to her right.

“Good morning.” She said softly. More than two months of shame and shyness coming out in two words.

“Morning.” Katya replied almost questioningly around a mouthful of eggs. Trixie turned to her own plate but not before noticing the upturn in Katya’s mouth.


End file.
